


Not a Minute of Peace

by Ketenn



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Canon Divergence, F/M, GabeNath Reverse Bang, GabeNath Reverse Bang 2020, I'm going down with Catallector and I'm dragging you with me!, In Medias Res, Movie References & Allusions, Non-Chronological, Romance, Violence, lovers on the lam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28193448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketenn/pseuds/Ketenn
Summary: Even though the akuma wants to shackle them, the Collector and Catalyst have more freedom than Gabriel and Nathalie ever had. They may be criminals turned into prey, but they enjoy the hunt. There is only one thing they are running from.
Relationships: Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 27
Kudos: 33
Collections: GabeNath Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadCattery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadCattery/gifts).



> This fic was made for the Gabenath Reverse Bang.
> 
> I would like to thank Beccel, whose beautiful art and very original ideas inspired me to no end. What you’ll see in this fic is only a snippet from what we came up with.  
> I would also like to thank MadCattery, who did an astounding beta job as always, seeing into my messy mind and keeping it under control when I couldn’t.
> 
> I couldn’t have asked for a better team. :)

“What are we going to do now?”

Catalyst’s question bounced off the alley’s walls under the Pont de Tolbiac, each tremor emphasising her cold, even tone. It almost felt like that their current situation was nothing more than a setback.

“I don’t know,” the Collector answered, examining the grey bricks of the bridge.

_Get the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous_ , said a small voice in the back of his mind.

No. Break free.

A sharp pain cut into his sore chest, drawing his palm to it like a magnet.

“Let us wait until Ladybug uses the Miraculous Cure,” he muttered.

Catalyst touched one hand to his shoulder, her other quickly covering his own that rested over his heart. It was all so familiar. _In another life._

The Collector sought her eyes— like he had in _that other life—_ but it was only her black helmet he met. He took in the red line zig-zagging around it, trying to memorise every sharp edge. It was not nearly as comforting as her eyes would be, but it still helped.

“I don’t think she’ll use it,” Catalyst answered. “Not right away. She’ll try to get to us first.”

_Us._

She was right. But the little voice at the back of his head would not rest, nagging him with violent whispers to change her mind.

“Ladybug is after _me_. If you leave now, you could be out of the country before the news gets out.”

The voice stopped. But the silence was brief when her response came swift.

“I’m not leaving.” Her so far detached tone had become hard and unbreakable. The Collector cherished it. The voice did not.

“That’s not up for debate.” Another surge of pain in his chest, but this time he was ready. He straightened his back and Catalyst’s hands slowly fell to her side. “It would be foolish to stay. You could be far out of their reach if—”

“I chose to be involved. I’m ready to live with the consequences. I’m not going to leave you alone in this.”

He parted his lips to say something— _anything_ — in disagreement, but he pursed them together instead and let a puff of air leave through his nose.

_Gabriel_ might want her gone, for her own sake. But _the Collector_ fully welcomed her offer to stay.

Catalyst’s determined smile was the last blow in overthrowing the pleading man stuck at the back of his mind. The Collector was eager to work with her. The akuma gave them one last chance and he had every intention to use it.

“You do realise that you’ll never have a minute of peace.” It was an invitation, wrapped in words of caution. Danger vitalised him and he knew it vitalised her.

He did not bother stifling a smile as hers widened and turned lopsided.

“Do you promise?”

***

Despite the Collector’s company, Catalyst felt lost. They wanted to engage Ladybug and Chat Noir but had no real plan. So, the next day, it was a blessing when the four heroes patrolling Paris caught sight of them in Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.

A deafening crash cut through the air. The top of the sharp rock by the Île de la Belvédère entrance fell into the pond below, and Chat Noir jumped up onto what remained, swooping down to attack the Collector from above.

Catalyst’s instinctive reaction was to jerk her head towards her partner and Carapace took advantage of her waning attention. His shield bashed into her head with such a force that her legs gave way and she fell to her knees. While her helmet had dampened the hit, the shock still sent a wave of pain through her head. Her hand shot up to palm her helmet. _Just a scratch._

Ladybug and Carapace stood a few steps away from her, still as stone. Ladybug was clutching her yo-yo firmly, as if waiting for the right chance to throw it. A moment passed. The chance did not come.

_They don’t know,_ the voice at the back of Catalyst’s head noted.

Catalyst heard the rustle of paper before she saw the Collector’s sketchbook slice through the air towards Ladybug and Carapace. The heroes moved to dodge it and Catalyst used the time bought to spring to her feet.

The world was spinning, but dizziness was an old friend.

The Collector was already diving headfirst into the fray, effectively drawing her opponents’ attentions away with a volley of attacks and a maniacal laugh.

_They really don’t know._

The two heroes were on the suspension bridge now, joined by Chat Noir and Rena Rouge to push the Collector back. He was struggling to keep his eyes on all four heroes, keeping his sketchbook close to deter their approach.

“Four against one? Now, that hardly seems fair.”

“What’s wrong?” Ladybug was spinning her yo-yo at her side as she slowly approached the Collector. “Can’t take us, Monsieur Agres—”

“Like _you_ ever care about _fair_!” Chat Noir was already rushing forward before the other heroes could act, his baton swinging to hit the Collector. But he swiftly ducked and dodged Chat Noir’s swings before landing a kick to his torso.

Ladybug quickly recovered to support Chat Noir as he slowly rose back to his feet, jumping in front of him to toss her yo-yo at the Collector to stop his throw.

Amidst this, the other two heroes hadn’t noticed Catalyst’s approach. The latter grabbed Carapace’s shoulders and flipped over him, using the momentum to toss him to the ground. Seeing Rena Rouge’s attention averted to them, the Collector threw his sketchbook towards her—

“Shellter!” Carapace shouted from the floor, just in time to see the green bubble disintegrate upon contact with the sketchbook.

Rena Rouge attacked but Catalyst was quicker, flipping back and taking off towards the other group.

Baton and yo-yo were thrown at the Collector.

In a split second, Catalyst could see the Collector’s refusal to back down, could _see_ what he was about to do. He was self-assured, despite the risk being too high. 

The Collector held up his book.

Catalyst jumped.

She crashed into him, pushing him out of the weapons’ way. As they fell, her hand shot up to his chest. She felt a pulse of power shoot up her arm and through her palm before she let go.

The book that slipped from his hands landed page down on the bridge.

In a flash of scarlet, the Collector turned red. In that same moment, the bridge beneath them disappeared into the book.

And they fell.

As Catalyst broke the water’s surface and sunk deep below, time seemed to slow, all sounds including the four subsequent splashes after her muffled. She spotted four colourful blurs swimming rapidly to the surface, scattering to flank a deep scarlet one.

With Rena Rouge having drifted farther from the group following each attack and evasion, Catalyst set her sights on her. But any hope to go unnoticed was quickly shattered when Chat Noir submerged.

He extended his baton to hit her, but she evaded and grabbed it. He resurfaced instead of struggling, pushing her end of the weapon— and her— under. But Catalyst had grabbed Rena Rouge’s ankle, pulling the fox under without warning. She could barely make out Chat Noir’s shout from the surface. Rena Rouge tried to kick back, but by that time, Catalyst had caught her firmly by her thighs and pulled her under.

The girl kicked again, but it was not enough. Catalyst brought her arms around her and tore the pendant from her neck. An orange flash, and Rena Rouge vanished. The reporter girl left in her place managed to keep a cool head and grabbed Catalyst’s arms, trying to keep her underwater as Chat Noir rushed toward them.

The girl struggled, but without her powers, Catalyst easily swam to the surface with her in tow. Eyes quickly searching for the Collector, Catalyst pushed the reporter girl away as a small distraction, as Chat Noir turned to swim to the girl instead.

Catalyst saw a wicked grin stretch across the Collector’s face as he noticed her victory. He readied his sketchbook and she threw the pendant toward it—

Ladybug’s yo-yo swished—

Chat Noir and Carapace hurled their weapons in front of the sketchbook—

But the Collector’s book, enhanced by Catalyst’s scarlet magic, was faster than the heroes could ever wish to be.

In a blink, the Miraculous had disappeared into the book.

Ladybug’s shriek and the Collector’s vicious laughter merged into a dissonance.

_End it!_

The Collector briskly turned, making his way to shore.

Catalyst— or the Nathalie still left in her— was _pleased_. Getting the Fox Miraculous was not part of the plan, but a victory was a victory.

Yet, a small part of her felt sour.

_But she was closer to fulfilling her responsibility._

But she felt shackled, betrayed.

Getting any Miraculous was progress. One Miraculous was better than an akuma.

It _must_ be.

While the heroes tried to recover from their loss, she dove after the Collector.

“Carapace! Get Alya out of here!”

She could hear Chat Noir’s voice behind her, could almost _see_ his frantic splashing as he tried to swim after them.

Their victory was like her scarlet enhancement, invigorating her enough that she got out of the water before Chat Noir could even get near them.

Maybe it was the tides of the fight turning, or the unexpected battle, but she felt content.

They had the grounds of a plan to end it.

***

The fight and the chase Ladybug and Chat Noir gave until the Black Cat Miraculous’ power depleted had roused the Collector from a dormant state. He was wide awake now, blood coursing, _thrilled_ by the chase.

The Collector and Catalyst came to a stop on a rooftop somewhere in the 14th arrondissement, far away from their earlier clash at Parc des Buttes-Chaumont.

The tingling vigour drained out of him as he wiped the heel of his hand against the paper of his sketchbook, the Fox Miraculous easily falling to the ground as if only slid between the pages.

As he held the pendant up by its chain, he turned to Catalyst, tried to spot any trace of thought or feeling crossing her lips. But she was like a statue, her dispassionate attention fixed on the Miraculous.

That was not enough. He needed her to be elated with their success, because he could not be.

_Use the Miraculous!_

The Collector brought his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He let out a breath.

_Get the others and rewind time. Save Emilie!_

The voice— _Gabriel’s voice_ — was right. The Collector and Catalyst were incarnated to bring back Emilie.

But the akuma’s own tricks were also tempting. It offered freedom. It pushed them into _insanity_.

“Should we try it?” Catalyst’s question was uncertain.

_Yes_ , Gabriel whispered. Saving Emilie would abolish his doubts, along with his current attraction to chaos.

But the Collector loved causing devastation. And _Catalyst_ was his companion.

“I think we should.” The Collector offered the necklace to her, damning himself and Gabriel. “We don’t know how this’ll work. Maybe we can use it only once. And it’s more important that _you_ get another chance.”

Catalyst hummed. She touched the cord carefully, as if expecting it to scorch her. As soon as her fingers coiled around it, the Collector brought up his other hand to cover hers, gently squeezing it. He was not sure who the contact was meant to reassure.

She slowly moved past him, Miraculous in hand. Like she was afraid of him witnessing her transformation.

He looked over his shoulder anyway, watching as she studied the pendant on her palm.

“I’m not expecting you to run.” He dreaded that she would. “I just want you to be able to.”

He did not want to lose Catalyst. But losing Nathalie felt equally overwhelming.

What was the point of putting her in danger anyway? Emilie was at the brink of death, as good as dead—

_Stop._

—and Nathalie was alive. Moving, talking, thinking, feeling. _And so was Catalyst._

The difference between Emilie and Catalyst— between Emilie and Nathalie— was stark, and yet Gabriel stopped every single one of his swaying thoughts.

Gabriel wanted to feel alive too. The Collector’s existence was proof of that, was it not? Then why did he chain himself to a woman already lost? It was a shackle similar to what the akuma offered.

But the Collector would enjoy every moment of freedom until Gabriel decided which chains to tighten.

Distress and delight clashed in him when Catalyst hung the Miraculous from her neck and the Kwami of Illusion did not appear.

Catalyst turned towards him abruptly, lips relaxed.

He averted his eyes. It took great effort to say what he _had to_ say, and it was impossible while looking at her. “You should try it anyway.”

She was silent for so long that he feared— _hoped_ — she would refuse.

“Trixx.”

—He risked glancing back only now, to see her one last time, before Nathalie would take her place—

“ _Transforme-moi!_ ”

But there was no flash of light. Nothing changed.

Catalyst’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he was certain it was not in irritation. He held his sketchbook open to her and she dropped the Miraculous into it without hesitation. The necklace disappeared as it made contact with the paper, and a web of ink began to spread from that spot, painting the pendant’s shape onto the page.

“It _seems_ that... if we want the reins back in our hands, we’ll have to get the object the akuma possessed,” said the Collector with a small curl of his lips.

When Catalyst spoke again, her tone was detached. “Are we heading back to the manor then? Because I don’t think Ladybug has it.”

“Me neither.” He briefly glanced at the sketch of the Fox Miraculous before shutting the book. “If she does then she made a huge mistake today.”

Getting the akumatized object felt like self-betrayal but was it? Obtaining the item did not equal destroying it. It was merely safekeeping.

He brought one hand up to rest on Catalyst’s shoulder, to show that he was content. He wished to do more, to show her his appreciation the only way he could, _by letting his impulses run free_. But Gabriel put a stop to him.

_It would be unfair to Nathalie_.

To Nathalie. Not to Emilie.

The Collector wanted to thank Catalyst, to feel her, to make sure that she was still there—

_Stop!_

—and it had happened several times already.

Except it was different this time.

The hand on her shoulder slowly rose to her face. The hard steel of her helmet meeting it surprised him for a moment, but his thumb met her much warmer skin. He gently stroked her cheek, earning him the genuine smile he strived to see.

Even the voice in his head had become quiet; there were no orders barked, no promises recited. Only silence.

_Finally._

“As soon as night falls, we’re going back to the Manor.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Agreste Manor’s defence system was superior even to the Louvre’s defences. It was ironic how Amelie and Félix— intruders calling themselves family— resided there freely now, under the guise of giving support to Adrien, while Catalyst and the Collector had to sneak in like thieves. At least the two villains knew how to evade the alarms and the security cameras, allowing them the pretence of being more than that.

The moment they entered the lair, the Collector had to stop himself from touching his sore chest again. This was where it had all started. It felt like an old memory from a distant past although it happened only a day ago. Catalyst stopped in her tracks but did not look back.

No matter how wide the space nor how vast the open window, it suddenly felt suffocating. But the feeling was gone just as quickly as it had formed. They had a job to do.

Nothing had changed in the atelier since the fight. One ceramic mannequin laid broken on the floor. Another laid against the wall, head broken. The window curtains next to Emilie’s portrait were torn, and jewellery Gabriel once used for inspiration scattered the floor.

This room had essentially been Gabriel’s home over the past year. It was a room of creation. Now it lay in destruction. Seeing it in its current state... it felt like a knife twisting into the Collector’s stomach.

“It’s exactly as we left it.” Catalyst’s voice rang through his mournful silence. “That’s good. It should still be here.”

Her flat voice stirred him from his miserable sorrow.

He stopped in front of the toppled mannequin.

_Carapace’s shield bashed the Collector squarely in the chest, sending him down. The mannequin behind him tumbled under his weight. In that same moment, Ladybug and Rena Rouge had knocked Catalyst against Emilie’s portrait, lodging it wide open to reveal the hidden safe._

Catalyst must have been revisiting the events of that fateful day as well, he thought, seeing her standing where Ladybug had stood.

_Rena Rouge blew into her flute and the other miraculous users came charging in through the door._

The Collector looked down to the floor.

_Catalyst grabbed a book from the safe and threw it at Roi Singe. The book went right through him— wiping the mirage out of existence_ — _and hit the Collector in the head._

Catalyst strode to the crumbled mannequin.

_Ladybug tossed her yo-yo to wrap around Catalyst’s wrist and yanked her away from the safe, sending her crashing into the mannequin next to him._

They both stood at the spot they had before when they had been backed against the wall. _The object must be somewhere here._ Catalyst searched among the rubble while the Collector checked the low table. He spotted the item through the glass surface. It was small and black, hidden in the shadows. He would not have seen it if not for the contrasting white tile it rested upon.

“I’ve found it,” he whispered. He turned to Catalyst but found her showing little interest. The pencil in her hand held her full attention. How did _that_ get there?

_The crash of the mannequin startled Carapace, giving the Collector the opportunity to grab the book from the floor. As he opened it, the words inside slowly faded away until it became an empty sketchbook._

_Ladybug and Rena Rouge were busy pinning Catalyst down, leaving Carapace alone against him._

_Alone._

Where had Chat Noir been during all this?

The Collector looked up.

_At the door._

For a moment, he thought that his memories had extended beyond the barriers of his imagination to take on the mere _likeness_ of reality. But the small hiss from Catalyst jogged his senses. The Chat Noir he saw, black form almost merging with the hall’s darkness, was in the flesh.

“What are you doing here?” The exact question he had asked the day before. The words were the same but the conviction behind them was stilted.

The Collector glanced down at the hero’s hand. This time, his clenched fist was not surrounded by black energy.

“It’s my house,” said the Collector. “I could ask the same of you.”

“Let’s leave!” Catalyst pulled on his arm, sinking her fingers into his muscles just enough for it to hurt.

“I don’t think so.” Chat Noir’s voice faltered, but his arm reaching back for his baton remained steady. “If you came for the residents, they’re not here.”

“ _Residents?_ ” The Collector chuckled, snapping his sketchbook open. “Intruders, more like. _They’re_ no more welcome here than _you_.”

Chat Noir’s lips curved into a deep frown as he held his weapon at the ready. For the Collector, seeing his aggressive stance was like the toll of a loud bell. He felt his muscles tense as his eyes focused in on his enemy. His senses heightened to the point that he could hear Chat Noir’s rapid breaths.

The Collector shot his sketchbook at the open door behind Chat Noir. As the book flew, he dashed to engage the boy. The sketchbook turned back like a boomerang, flying to capture the distracted Chat Noir.

Just then, a red figure blasted through the windows behind Nathalie’s desk. The red figure crashed straight into him and Chat Noir, knocking them to the floor. The Collector’s grip loosened as he landed, and the akumatized object clattered on the tiles.

“It’s in that black pebble, m’lady!”

Catalyst skipped in front of Ladybug, kicking the akumatized object away. Ladybug threw herself bodily against her, pushing her to the ground. Both on the floor, Catalyst grabbed her opponent by the upper arm. With a foot to the girl’s chest, she rolled backwards to send her flying into the wall.

The Collector had reclaimed his sketchbook and threw it in Ladybug’s direction. But she had quickly collected her bearings and cartwheeled out of the way.

“Keep him occupied!” she yelled to Chat Noir while tossing her yo-yo at Catalyst.

The akumatized object still laid at the edge of the room, abandoned but not forgotten. The heroes had a plan. The hunt was on.

Following his partner’s direction, Chat Noir swung his baton at the Collector. The Collector blocked the blow before grabbing the weapon in one hand, a wide smirk forming on his face as he stared back at him. Chat Noir suddenly choked up, as if just realising who he was facing. The Collector could not help but laugh at the boy’s sudden uncertainty. He took advantage of it, hurling him against Gabriel’s working platform.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

With each breath, the Collector felt his glee and vigour grow. It was as if his own skin could no longer contain it. For a moment, he watched as Chat Noir pushed himself up to his feet, watched the hesitation in his movements which only _empowered_ him further. It was intoxicating.

_Get the Miracu—_

Power was everything.

The Collector shifted his sights away from Chat Noir in favour of the _pebble_. He could hear Chat Noir’s steps running up behind him, could hear when they came to an abrupt stop right before a photo frame crashed past the hero and shattered on the floor.

“How about _you_ distract her too, m’lady?” Chat Noir snarled.

The only response he got was Catalyst’s raw chuckle.

The Collector looked over to see Catalyst’s brief struggle with Ladybug before she flung another framed photo of Adrien at Chat Noir.

The Collector continued his search for the akumatized object while keeping an ear on his surroundings. Chat Noir’s steps would come to a stall each time, before the crash of a frame and Ladybug’s annoyed groans could be heard.

Then he spotted it.

“Mademoiselle?” the boy whined. “You should really pick a diff—” A thud, then a grunt. “Never mind!”

“Chat! The pebble!” Ladybug shrieked.

But it was too late. The Collector let out a sigh as the mesmerizing feeling of having control over his existence washed over him from the black object in his fist.

“It’s alright, m’lady.” Chat Noir chuckled with fake light-heartedness. “We’re always fighting akuma victims who have the akumatized object on them.”

Meanwhile, Ladybug was already switching to another plan. “Lucky Charm!”

The moment Ladybug threw her yo-yo in the air, however, her whole body flashed a scarlet red. The object materialising in the air had been a spotted hammer, but Catalyst’s meddling had morphed it into a deep red mallet that crushed the tiles it landed on.

As Catalyst’s palm left the back of Ladybug’s neck, the red hue faded. Ladybug quickly pushed away from Catalyst when she reached to grab her earrings. Ladybug had returned to normal but the mallet remained.

Chat Noir charged at Catalyst with an angry growl, forgetting the Collector.

Ladybug took the mallet, hands shaking.

“What’s up with that Lucky Charm, m’lady?” Chat Noir asked as he skipped onto Nathalie’s desk before jumping at Catalyst.

“I don’t know! I think she used her enhancing power against me!” shouted Ladybug as she approached the Collector.

“Why don’t you drop that silly thing and use your yo-yo?” The Collector laughed and sent his book flying at Ladybug, but the girl ducked just in time, the weight of the mallet pulling her down. “Let’s see if I can catch it this time!”

Ladybug jumped back to her feet and rushed at him as fast as her heavy Lucky Charm would allow. She gave a swing of the mallet as she neared him, forcing him to backtrack until Emilie’s portrait stopped him.

“M’lady, he loves that painting! Target that!” Chat Noir shouted. His encouragement turned into a snort when Catalyst’s palm connected with his face.

_Nooo!_

Sheer panic flooded the Collector. While he knew he had to jump out of harm’s way, his body would not comply. Another swing and his sketchbook was knocked out of his hand. He was weaponless, but instead of moving away, he stayed and threw his arms up in defence.

Ladybug’s swing fell short. Instead of knocking him or the painting, the mallet smacked his outstretched hands, knocking the akumatized object away.

Catalyst was behind Ladybug again, grabbing her before she could give another swing of the weapon. The Collector reached out for the book and pebble but his chest and wrist objected.

Damn it, Gabriel! It is just a painting!

Chat Noir dove headfirst for the akumatized object. Catalyst kicked the magical sketchbook towards Chat Noir’s hand, but he straightened just in time, avoiding it, prize in hand.

The Collector clenched his teeth. The sketchbook flew into his hand and as soon as he touched it, he threw it at the boy, out of anger and desperation rather than in retaliation. Chat Noir leapt back.

Suddenly, time became crucial, and the boy’s evasion bought them that.

The Collector was not ready to let go yet.

“Run.” It was only a whisper, but Catalyst heard it. Her mischievous grin returned.

Their chances were slim, but the chase was still going.

As his sketchbook returned, the Collector absorbed the window next to Emilie’s portrait into it. They jumped through the new hole in the wall, deliberately landing on the grass. The house’s alarms shrieked, and the last thing they heard before they left the ground was Ladybug’s shout to Chat Noir to keep him from freeing the akuma.

She would not risk fighting Hawkmoth. If only they could grasp the irony.

***

They were in Parc des Buttes-Chaumont again. It was illogical to return here, but Catalyst understood why the Collector would be attracted to a beautiful— and artificial— place like this; he was still an artist, who admired other people’s creations.

She was leaning on the Temple de la Sibylle’s railing, her eyes on the houses’ roofs, to spot any movement on them.

Ever since their escape from the Manor, an uncomfortable silence shrouded them. There was nothing and yet also too much to say. Not that she would know how to begin.

Their plan was to get the akumatized object.

_And find a way to turn back time._

To be able to control their lives just this once.

She wanted to help Gabriel, but the Collector’s behaviour confused her. If even he could not decide what he wanted, how could _she_ help?

He _did_ jump in front of Emilie’s portrait, but she noticed everything else as well. His reluctance when they secured the Fox Miraculous. His relief when it was not able to fix— _change_ — anything. How readily he handed her his sketchbook and how his shoulders relaxed when the necklace disappeared in it.

The Nathalie part of her did not want to encourage his light-heartedness, refusing to giving way to her desires. Catalyst wanted nothing more than to silence the constantly disapproving voice that was whispering plans to achieve the impossible. She wanted to fulfil the wishes they shared instead.

She heard the scraping of a pencil on paper and turned to face the Collector. He was sitting on the ground, with his back to the temple’s pillar, the tip of the pencil she found on the atelier’s floor now still against the page of his sketchbook. He hated that pencil.

He was looking at her, as if he was expecting her to turn to him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you _actually_ sketching?” Catalyst asked in disbelief.

“I am.” With that admission, he closed the book and let the pencil fall to the ground.

His behaviour was so uncharacteristic of the Collector. When she sat down next to him, he put the book down to his other side. She stroked his other arm, as a means of comfort, but it only made him more anxious.

It pained her, how her touch caused unease. She let her hand fall and laid her back against the pillar, focusing on the houses again.

“I know that sketches are your life, remember?” He remained silent, so she tilted her head towards him, to see his reaction. The Collector averted his eyes to the sketchbook. “I just find it interesting that instead of trapping the object of your inspiration, you waste time drawing it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said defensively. His body tensed even more, and still kept his eyes on the sketchbook. “Real inspirations need to be drawn by hand.”

The heavy and unfamiliar silence returned.

“What are we going to do now?” she ventured, hoping that her question would dissolve the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“We need the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous and turn back time,” he said dryly, as if reciting a mantra long etched into his heart.

That was their ultimate goal. It was not what they were going to do next.

Slowly, she said, “Maybe we should try to live with what we have.”

_Forget it!_

“What?” He was not upset, merely surprised.

“Ladybug has all the winning cards. She’ll release the akuma only when we’re cornered,” she explained, perhaps too eagerly. “If we face her, we lose. So maybe _we_ should corner _her_.”

“What do you mean?”

“We destroy.” Rampage. That was what she was good at, what she enjoyed. “If we leave a lasting mark on the city, maybe we could force Ladybug to use her Miraculous Cure.”

“You want her to purify the akuma?” His question had a curious undertone.

_We need their Miraculous._

She wished to be free. _Nathalie_ wished to be free, but restrained herself.

The akuma wanted full control over them. If _Catalyst_ had to choose—

_We have to save Emilie._

—She could not answer his question by herself.

“Do you miss her?”

Answering a question with a question. That was her only way out.

The Collector remained silent and glanced down at his sketchbook again. For a moment, she feared that she had lost him but then he handed the sketchbook to her.

She was hesitant to take it at first, but he waited patiently. She leafed through the pages filled with sketches of lampposts, trees, cars, the Fox Miraculous and the atelier’s window, until she reached the last sketch, the only one he drew.

Her breath hitched and she perked her head up to look at him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

She looked down again, carefully tracing her fingers down the sketch. It was of… _her_ — Catalyst—, just minutes ago, leaning against the railing. The Collector drew her with a small smile, one which she definitely did not have while scouring the rooftops. On the page preceding it, there was a much rougher sketch of her from the front, probably a study of that unlikely smile.

So idealised.

Her heart fluttered, and she felt a real smile spread on her face. She looked at him again, meeting his own genuine smile. It was the exact opposite of the grins induced by their small victories.

There was still a way out for them.

“I think we should wreak havoc,” she muttered.

She just wanted to. She craved to feel alive.

He gently touched her under her chin and brought her head to fully face him.

“That’s a very good idea,” he whispered, his thoughts audibly roaming far from his words.

“To save Emilie,” she breathed.

It was a lie.

“To save Emilie,” he repeated.

She was convinced that was a lie too.

When their lips met, everything she had tried to keep separate blurred. The one who answered his kiss was Catalyst. Her anticipation was Nathalie. The urge to break away was also Nathalie. But the force keeping her in place was Catalyst.

This is what Catalyst wanted, and what Nathalie wanted. Then why did she feel that she was betraying herself?

The Collector broke the kiss but did not withdraw from her. He was without regrets.

He made his own decisions, did he not? And so did she. Even if it all ended badly— _well_ —their kiss would still remain. A decision made entirely by the Collector and Catalyst.


	3. Chapter 3

The glass between the Eiffel Tower’s iron beams cracked desperately before giving way under the impact from both Catalyst and the Collector. The shards scattered all over the floor, crunching beneath their feet as they entered the chosen restaurant.

The shouting which erupted was a multilingual choir the Collector could not understand, but the message was the same. The customers had cleared the place in a heartbeat, the only ones remaining were the staff of the restaurant.

“I’ve always wondered about the dining experience here.”

“You should have simply asked, my dear.”

The Collector touched a hand to Catalyst’s back and led her to a table by the window. He held out a chair for her before sitting himself and motioning to a waitress. The woman looked composed enough, save for her aggressively chewing on her lower lip.

“What would you like to drink?” the Collector asked Catalyst.

“Only the usual.” She leaned back on the chair and crossed her legs.

“As you wish.” The Collector grinned at the waitress, splintering her resolve. “A black espresso for my dear Catalyst, and a vanilla flavoured cappuccino with double sugar for me.”

They were sipping their coffee in silence, waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir to arrive. The day before, they had shown up in various parts of the city, leaving destruction in their wake. Houses had crumbled and people had disappeared into the Collector’s sketchbook. They were swift and efficient, not leaving a chance for Ladybug and Chat Noir to catch up with them.

The amount of damage caused and people terrified in the city within a day had not been enough for Ladybug to throw caution to the wind, however, and she did not release the akuma. At least for now. So the Collector and Catalyst had picked an even bigger target and come up with an even riskier plan.

The heroes’ vigilance had doubled in the wake of yesterday’s events and they were quick to respond to the news, turning up well before expected. Chat Noir’s expression darkened when he spotted them, while Ladybug scoured their surroundings.

The Collector lowered his empty cup.

“We didn’t lay a trap.”

“You’ve destroyed half the city to compel me to purify the akuma. All this, because you want to transform into Hawkmoth without us nearby,” said Ladybug sceptically. “Yet, we’re all here now. Forgive me for not believing you.”

“We were designed to cause chaos. We can’t do anything else.” Catalyst looked at Chat Noir. “Everything happened because of you. If you want to fix it, then it’s on you.”

The boy’s eyes widened, but whatever he wanted to say was stuck in his throat when Ladybug spoke.

“Don’t blame us for _your_ decisions.” She looked at Catalyst. “Especially not you.”

“We don’t want to fight.” This was the first time Chat Noir had spoken, and his voice was uncharacteristically timid. Ladybug turned to her partner in surprise. “Think about Adrien. He really misses you.”

Catalyst’s mouth twitched. It was a very small reaction from Nathalie, but the Collector definitely caught it.

“Don’t waste your time, cat,” he chuckled, drawing the heroes’ attention to him. “The akumatized may usually retain some of their original feelings, but you damaged my Miraculous before the akuma made contact with us. It’s different this time. Your manipulation won’t work.”

It was a lie but the boy seemed to believe him, his eyes falling to the floor. The Collector needed Catalyst to focus.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Ladybug said. “I’ll purify the akuma and free you from it. But I want your Miraculous in return.”

“I appreciate your _generous_ offer. But did I ever say that we wanted to be free of it?”

“We know Gabriel Agreste,” Chat Noir said, eyes still directed to the ground, voice even smaller than before. “Despite what _you’ve_ done, I don’t believe he would enjoy so much destruction.”

“You’ve hit the nail on its head.” The Colletor looked at Ladybug. “All four of us know the weight of responsibility that comes with having a Miraculous. I can’t tell how much you enjoy having them, but in these few days I’ve learnt that I don’t. Neither of us do.” He looked at Catalyst, who turned towards him, lips curled into a warm smile.

“So if you purify the akuma, will you give me your Miraculous?” Ladybug asked carefully.

The Collector let out a bitter chuckle. “You still don’t understand. The damaged akuma gives us freedom, but we can’t stay like this forever. We don’t want the responsibility back, but we can’t leave it unsettled either. For that, we need your Miraculous, and because you won’t give it to us, we need ours. Do you see our problem?”

An unsettling silence followed.

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed, contemplating her options. Finally, she spoke, breaking the stillness. “I think I do.”

She threw her yo-yo at the Collector and Catalyst jumped, kicking their table over and hurling it in front of him. The noise of the porcelain and silver clattering on the floor seemed to wake Chat Noir from his gloom. He shot his baton at Catalyst, hitting her in the stomach and launching her out another small window. The Collector was occupied with trying to trap Ladybug’s yo-yo in his book but, from the corner of his eye, he could see Chat Noir struggling with the baton as it suddenly weighed down on Catalyst’s end, throwing the boy up into the air, and out of the restaurant, breaking yet another window.

Grabbing onto the chandelier, Ladybug propelled herself at the Collector, knocking him out of the restaurant as well.

The Collector’s book landed just out of his reach, and before he could move to grab it, Chat Noir hit him in his side, sending him into one of the Eiffel Tower’s legs. The iron plates around him creaked. For a moment, he thought it was his ribs breaking again. Chat Noir launched another attack and the Collector evaded. The baton slid between two metal plates and the Collector kicked it from the side, lodging it further in.

He saw Catalyst land near his sketchbook, but Ladybug caught her wrist with her yo-yo and jumped down from a beam. Catalyst was pulled into the air, and Ladybug rushed to grab the sketchbook.

Catalyst swung with her legs to build up momentum until she was hanging upside down. She brought her legs and arms to her chest. Her concentrated weight shot up the unassuming Ladybug into the air, and Catalyst descended.

Chat Noir tried to free his baton, but the Collector transferred more weight to his leg, keeping the weapon in place.

“Forget it, cat!”

“Why don’t you keep staring at your _assistant_?” Chat Noir retorted cheekily, leaving the baton and running to attack with his bare hand. The Collector grabbed him by the shoulder, swung him around and pressed him face down to the ground.

“If only you were as swift as your tongue.” He laughed.

He looked up again, to see Ladybug shooting her yo-yo at Catalyst, who caught it this time with one hand.

A sudden idea struck the Collector.

“Catalyst!” he shouted, as he freed the baton from between the plates. “Head around and pull!”

Catalyst pulled on the yo-yo, yanking Ladybug forward, and ran to hook it around the tower’s leg closest to him and Chat Noir.

The Collector jumped and, with all the power he could muster, rammed the baton into the tower’s other leg, budging the iron. He went on to crush a few other plates, damaging the metal just enough for it to break easily under pressure.

By the time Ladybug understood their plan, Catalyst had already tied the yo-yo’s string around the other leg and pulled at it, slowly cutting through the iron. Ladybug launched into her, but Catalyst took it fearlessly, using the momentum to cut into the leg further.

The Collector jumped from one beam to the other, towards the top of the tower.

“CHAT! STOP HIM!” Ladybug shouted.

Chat Noir was fast, quickly overtaking the Collector before jumping to collide with him mid-air, sending them both to the ground. The Collector landed on his back with Chat Noir on him.

“Cataclysm!” Chat Noir shouted and stretched his arm to destroy his own baton.

Chat Noir’s ears twitched in warning but he had no time to look back. Catalyst had grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him to the side. The boy only wanted to break his fall with his hands, but his body turned scarlet right before his palm touched the asphalt. The ground shook, and snapping metal resounded as the iron beams of the Eiffel Tower cracked.

Catalyst grabbed the Collector’s wrist and pulled him up before the growing breach in the ground could reach him. Ladybug stood near the now normal coloured Chat Noir and tinkered with her yo-yo. The Collector saw the black _pebble_ fall into Ladybug’s palm and stopped, drawing Catalyst back. Ladybug dropped the akumatized object and crushed it with a slam of her foot. They could see her catch the akuma, but the tower’s long, metallic moan swallowed the words of her magical cure. Then the tower landed on the Pont d’léna with an ear-piercing crash.

The burst of air slammed the Collector to the ground. Although the dust biting his eyes prevented him from seeing the swarm of ladybugs rushing through him, he could feel when it happened. His strength vanished, along with the pain in his chest. The feeling of responsibility returned, weighing down his shoulders much heavier than he remembered.

Gabriel extended his arm, to feel for Nathalie. As his palm slid through the grass, he found something else. Something familiar.

He chuckled. What were the odds that after Ladybug purified and fixed it, it would come back to him?

He sat up and pinned the brooch to his shirt.

“NO!” screamed Ladybug.

“You should hurry!” Nathalie sat a few steps away from him. Her hair had gotten free from her bun, but thankfully, she seemed unharmed.

He followed her gaze and spotted Ladybug and Chat Noir running towards them. Their determination intensified the closer they got.

He took a side glance at the worried Nooroo hovering next to him.

“Nooroo, _transforme-moi_!”

Hawkmoth soon took Gabriel’s place, and as Nooroo’s power flooded him, the sudden burst of emotions overwhelmed him. It was another kind of shackle, different from sacrificing control.

Freedom was not an option anymore, and his doubts persisted.

Nathalie did not complain when Hawkmoth scooped her up in his arms. On contact, he could tell apart her shame from every other emotion swirling around them. It was because of _them_. …Or was it because of _him_?

How could he do this to Nathalie? And how could he betray Emilie like that?

Despite his instinct telling him to keep away, he held her close as he dashed to the side of the Champ-de-Mars.

He put her down when they reached the side of the park and looked back to see the heroes following close behind. His grip around his cane tightened.

“Gabriel!”

Nathalie was standing next to an abandoned motorcycle, holding its throttle. Her expression was determined, wordlessly sharing a plan.

She was right, although that did not make him any less reluctant. He snapped open the top of his cane and let out the only akuma they had. He did not wait for it to reach the motorcycle. He did not want to see it happen again, and so he turned towards the swiftly approaching heroes.

But her feather-weight touch on the back of his hand made him look back, just in time to see the akuma flying into the motorcycle. The magical connection was made instantly. He could feel _everything_. Loyalty, bravery, fear, love…

The akuma’s torrent halted as it reached him.

Nathalie was determined to help, and wished to forget. It was a shame that he could offer only the shadow of a promise.

At least, they had a choice this time.

“Nooroo,” he whispered. “I’m renouncing you.”

Nathalie’s eyes widened in shock and her lips parted, but the akuma’s power escaped through her fingertips and the flood pulled him under.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Three days ago_ **

It all started with a chain of mistakes.

The first one was akumatizing a man enraged by Gabriel. Exploseur’s fury destroyed a whole street near the Agreste Manor in a matter of a minute, forcing Ladybug to call on her allies.

Exploseur’s hatred was like venom eating through sensibility. Hawkmoth advised him to plan ahead, hoping that the other heroes would arrive and divert his attention. The orders irritated Exploseur even further, and he continued his advance towards the Agreste Manor.

Hawkmoth had tried to de-akumatize Exploseur, but the victim’s strong hatred allowed him to resist. When Hawkmoth could not reach Nathalie on his communicator, he left his lair to warn her, but Exploseur had arrived earlier than anticipated.

Once the heroes had barged in, it took only minutes until a frail man was kneeling on the floor in place of Exploseur, panting heavily, still unaware of his location and what was about to happen around him.

“What are you doing here?” Chat Noir shot accusingly at Hawkmoth who was witnessing the scene before him. He was much shorter than the villain, yet with every single step he took, the anger in him gradually grew.

Chat Noir’s call for Cataclysm was only a whisper, but the teeming hatred in his voice gave it a daunting undertone. He shot towards Hawkmoth, and not even Ladybug’s scream was enough to stop him.

Hawkmoth grabbed Chat Noir’s wrist right as he was about to ram his palm into his chest. He swung the boy around and threw him towards his working platform. He could not see the impact however, as his attention was distracted by Nathalie throwing in the atelier’s door.

She immediately locked eyes with Hawkmoth and steeled her expression. To the heroes, she must have looked as if she forced a brave demeanour on herself. But to Hawkmoth, it was a sign that she was ready. She had a pencil in her hand, for a reason no doubt. Hawkmoth opened his palm, and the butterfly Ladybug just purified landed on it.

The second mistake he made that day was letting Chat Noir out of his sight. As soon as he closed his hands around the butterfly, Chat Noir crashed into him from the side. The purple akuma escaped exactly when Chat Noir touched Hawkmoth’s chest. The first sensation was the sound of his ribs breaking, the pain followed a heartbeat later. Then the power left him and the pain intensified.

A purple flash, and he instinctively ripped the brooch from his shirt. It was black as coal, _almost like a small pebble_.

Nathalie dashed towards him and the akuma followed close behind.

He initially thought that the intense pain was making him imagine it, but no, he could clearly see the butterfly change from purple to white... then back to purple in a blink of an eye.

He shot up to meet Nathalie halfway and slapped the pencil out of her hand. With its original target falling to the floor, the akuma flew into the broken Miraculous.

The power returned into Gabriel’s body as the akuma’s energy coursed through him. The dark waves consumed Nathalie, and Catalyst took her place.

“Monsieur Agreste?” Ladybug’s voice was small.

The Collector felt a sting in his wrist and looked down to see Ladybug’s yo-yo binding him.

Ladybug stopped him instead of the akuma. Anger flared up in him as he took in the heroes. They looked horrified and disgusted. Even the reporter girl under the guise of the fox seemed more furious, and less interested in the story unfolding in front of her.

“I prefer to be called... _the Collector_.”

He did not have to say anything to Catalyst. When he darted towards the heroes, she immediately followed.

There was no place for more mistakes.

***

**_Present time_ **

Catalyst maneuvered the motorcycle between the cars, speeding through the traffic. Ladybug and Chat Noir occasionally disappeared from and reappeared in the rear-view mirror as they were jumping from one rooftop to the other, slowly gaining on them. If only Gabriel had remained as Hawkmoth, they could face them with confidence.

“Why did you transform back?” she asked, unconsciously translating her thoughts into words.

He did not respond and even if he did, the words might have been lost in the violent wind whistling around them. Then he leant against her back, wrapping his arms around her more tightly.

“I’m not going to leave you alone in this,” he whispered.

A shiver ran down her spine and her hands quivered around the throttle, almost turning them over. She remembered those words.

Luckily, Chat Noir’s voice drew her attention back to their current situation.

“I’ll give you the honour of taking down the Collector slash Hawkmoth, m’lady! Leave Catalyst to me!”

The Collector laughed and she felt his weight lift from the motorcycle. Still, she retained her speed. She could not let Chat Noir touch the motorcycle. Despite her efforts, Chat Noir’s baton landed next to her and she pulled away, the sudden turn almost sending her flying.

She slowed down, and by the time Chat Noir landed in front of her, she was able to use the brake. She put one foot on the ground and kick down the side stand with the other. The cocky boy she heard just seconds ago was gone; he seemed devastated. Still, he was past talking, and aimed his weapon to pierce through the motorcycle.

Catalyst jumped onto the baton. Chat Noir tumbled forward, but managed to secure his balance and his grip over the weapon. Catalyst stepped off the baton before _she_ would fall and immediately jumped in front of the motorcycle when he swung his weapon behind his back for momentum. She crossed her wrists to take the hit then twisted them to grab the baton but Chat Noir drew back instantly. He was a fast learner.

Although Catalyst was right in front of him, Chat Noir only targeted the motorcycle. She deflected each attack and answered with strikes of her own. Chat Noir divided his weapon into two and pushed Catalyst’s arms apart. She rushed forward to land a blow. As she got close, she could see the sheepish gleam in his eyes.

The realisation that he was just a young boy— one who wanted to reason with his enemies out of some hope for salvation— made her shiver.

It was frightening, how it stilled her hand. She needed to convince herself that whatever she would do would not be permanent. Either Ladybug or the wish would fix it.

The click of his baton as he attached the two parts woke her from her thoughts. He kept the weapon in front of him for protection. Catalyst took up on his unintentional offer and quickly grabbed the baton with both hands, rotating it to the side. Chat Noir did not let go, and his body twisted as his weapon turned. He landed headfirst on the ground. He could only push himself up before Catalyst reached him, pulled his wrist up and slid off the ring from his finger.

A green flash of light.

It was ridiculously _easy_.

Catalyst processed what she saw with delay. She gasped and the boy’s weak hand slipped from hers, falling to the asphalt. The small thud sent a jolt of pain into her heart.

“Adrien?” she whispered, almost dropping the ring.

She could recognise those messy blond curls anywhere. Adrien slowly turned to look at her, his expression radiating defeat. And pain. Pain _she_ had caused. Her legs trembled, threatening to follow him to the ground.

It was Adrien all along. She fought him, hit him and kicked him. Hawkmoth, _his father_ , threw him off the Arc de Triomphe to save _her_.

“Nathalie— _please_ ,” he begged. She bit down on her lower lip to regain her composure, to hold herself back from hugging him, from telling him that everything was going to be all right. It was not going to be all right.

But they could still fix this.

She knelt down next to him. She did not say anything. She had no right.

She combed her fingers through his hair. She intended her smile to be reassuring, but she knew it was a miserable attempt.

She stood up and slid the ring on her finger.

“Please stop,” Adrien pleaded one last time, and Catalyst felt a lump in her throat.

Gabriel and her were undoubtedly the worst people in the world. Living while knowing was impossible. For her, and for Gabriel too, she was certain of that.

But it would not matter for long.

***

Ladybug jumped away from the sketchbook and it hit the wall. Several bricks disappeared. Ladybug immediately countered, flying her yo-yo around the Collector’s waist and tugging on it, hurling him against the damaged wall. A chunk of bricks fell to the street, creating a considerable gash in the wall.

The air was forced out of the Collector’s lungs, but the pain he had gotten used to did not follow. Ladybug pulled the yo-yo back again, and he flew towards a coffee table. The table’s legs screeched on the parquet floor, leaving him without support as it slid. He fell to his knees and searched for the edge of the table with his hands. Ladybug kicked it against him, hitting him in the forehead. He fell on his back, trapped under the table.

The swift series of concussions muddled his vision, but he could hear Ladybug rush towards him, breathing heavy before she knelt down next to him. He turned his head towards her, looking into the blur which was her face.

“Transform back and give me your Miraculous!” The sheer brutality of her attacks and the vitriol in her voice had given away her seething anger. He could use that to his advantage.

He absent-mindedly fiddled with the yo-yo’s string still wrapped around his waist as he answered.

“After you gave it back to me? I would rather keep it.” His laughter turned into weak coughing as his body rebelled against the tremors caused by his amusement. “You had it all along, but you relied on assumptions. We didn’t need to manipulate you, you did it yourself. It must feel awful, _Guardian_.”

Ladybug leaned closer to him, resting a hand on the edge of the table.

“ _Awful_?” she spat. “Do you know what’s _also_ awf—”

His hand tightened around the yo-yo’s string. He pulled.

Ladybug was yanked forward, head bumping into her hand on the table’s edge. The moment she hit the ground, the Collector kicked the table away and tore out the earring closer to him. Ladybug screamed in pain, but reached for his hand. He threw the jewel behind his back. As she leaned closer, he grabbed the other earring too.

A pink flash of light and it was finally over.

He did not care to look at the sobbing girl covering her face with her hands as he passed her. He had to concentrate on taking one step after the other to the breach in the wall without falling, and blinking until his vision sharpened. He held onto the side of the gap to reach down for the other earring. The brick under his palm slowly slid from its place and landed on the ground with a loud crash. He touched his forehead, as if that was enough to diminish the sting piercing into his temple.

A deep sound shook the ground and rattled the few intact ornaments left on the wall. His heartbeat quickened and he released a long-forgotten breath as he spotted the figure on the motorcycle.

“Catalyst,” he whispered.

Everything was going to be fine now.

***

The Collector’s relieved smile churned her stomach. He opened his palm as he limped towards her, showing what he had secured in it. When she recognised Ladybug’s earrings, Chat Noir’s ring on her finger felt heavier. She still managed to remove her hand from the motorcycle’s grip, showing him her own prize.

The Collector’s answer was a weak chuckle. She had expected more.

He climbed onto the motorcycle lamely and rested against her back. It was more like a hug than a signal to start the engine.

“To the Manor then?” she asked carefully.

“I don’t know,” he muttered into her neck.

Her responsibility towards Emilie had unnerved her, especially after her betrayal under the corrupt akuma’s influence, but Gabriel’s reluctance even more so.

Maybe he really had given himself over to the akuma. Maybe he was the Collector through and through and she, as Catalyst, was a distraction.

He could not back out now. They had fought too hard and too long for that. If she had to destroy the motorcycle to wake him from his misery, then so be it.

“I just want to be free,” he whispered. “I thought victory would solve everything, but it doesn’t. Not anymore.”

Her stomach made a turn. He couldn’t! That was impossible!

There was only one solution. It was selfish of her to destroy him like this, but he left her no choice.

“Adrien was Chat Noir.” The words tasted dry and bitter.

His body stiffened, but he remained silent.

She looked back at him, seeking his eyes behind his glasses. She found questions, realisations and pain. _Good._ Pain was good.

It seemed that he was looking for answers on what he saw from her face, eyes quickly jumping from side to side. But she could not give any. She already knew that there was no way out for them.

“We have to save Emilie,” she tried again.

He nodded slowly, but she was unsure if he agreed, or just automatically reacted to her voice. One hand left her waist and moved to the back of her neck, drawing her to him and crashing into her, kissing her fervently.

She would have stopped him, had she been able to. But the kiss made her forget, easing her pain too perfectly. He was the first to regain sensibility, breaking away from her.

“Nathalie—” The whisper of her name, _her real name_ , was no more than a sigh, but his hot breath against her cheek gave it the vibrancy of life.

It was him. Heaven help her, it was _him_.

He kissed her again, slower but harder, and she basked in every twinkle of emotion _Gabriel_ laid out in front of her. The dam was broken and she answered with the same passion, bringing an arm around his neck to pull him even closer.

Their objective had been clear: turn back time and save Emilie. Even the Collector and Catalyst knew that, despite the akuma’s corruption. But now that they had stepped through the gates of victory, it had all crumbled.

Every atrocity they had ever committed was for Emilie. ...Except that not all were.

Where did they go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to check out Beccel's beautiful art here: https://code-tonic.tumblr.com/post/638041688527470592/fic-not-a-minute-of-peace-author
> 
> Also, the title (and Catalyst's "do you promise" response to it) is a reference to the movie Bonnie & Clyde (1967).


End file.
